


I Was Running from the Truth

by rafaelbaseball



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Apologies, Emotional Baggage, Getting Back Together, Internalized Homophobia, Introspection, Isaiah is a good mentor and a better friend, M/M, Rafael & Sonny are in love always, Self-Discovery, Self-Doubt, Sonny & Isaiah Friendship, Unresolved Emotional Tension, lawyer boyfriends don't know how to feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-25 06:15:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21731422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rafaelbaseball/pseuds/rafaelbaseball
Summary: “Times have changed, right?” Sonny asks with a short, breathless laugh. He doesn’t elaborate. Isaiah doesn’t need him to, he thinks, and sure enough, he’s proven right.“It feels like that some days more than others,” Isaiah says.Sonny frowns, biting at the inside of his cheek as his chest tightens with the courage he has to muster for his next question. “Was it difficult for you?” His voice cracks and he hates himself a little for it.Isaiah smiles again. This one, Sonny does recognize. It’s really more of a smirk without any mean-spirited intent behind it, just a small tug at the corners of Isaiah’s lips, accompanied by downcast eyes and the slightest twitch of an eyebrow.“Was what difficult for me?”Yeah, Sonny knows that smile. It’s the one Isaiah had always defaulted to when asked a stupid question.“You know what I’m asking.”Isaiah nods, his expression softening. “I do. I do know.”
Relationships: Rafael Barba/Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr., Sonny Carisi & Isaiah Holmes
Comments: 15
Kudos: 131





	I Was Running from the Truth

Sonny doesn’t know why he’d thought he’d feel nervous about tonight but he doesn’t. Sitting down to a table with Isaiah, he only feels comfort. Isaiah has that effect on people, there’s something about his perpetually calm exterior and precise way of speaking that’s always felt more reassuring than anything else. It’s admittedly a little intimidating, the way Isaiah’s only gotten more beautiful (and that truly is the only way Sonny can describe him) as the years have passed, but Isaiah has never once been the type to use that to his advantage. 

It’s a little unbelievable, how genuinely _good_ Isaiah is. Sonny makes the decision then and there to make sure he gets a chance to see Isaiah more often.

They stick to small talk for the first round of drinks, or what passes for small talk between lawyers. They trade stories about cases, about other students they’d both known at Fordham, about what they’re each planning to do during the holidays; but through it all, Sonny is sure Isaiah gets the sense that’s not what they’re really here to discuss.

It isn’t until round three that Isaiah lets his curiosity get the better of him.

“There are rumors, you know,” Isaiah says, his tone somewhat playful. “Assistants talk, even if the words ‘District Attorney’ follow their titles.”

Sonny doesn’t rise to the bait, instead maintaining a neutral expression as he studies Isaiah over the rim of his Pilsner then takes a sip. He sniffs as he sets his glass back down a little harder than could ever be necessary then leans back in his chair. “That so? What have you heard?”

Isaiah shrugs a shoulder, letting his index finger circle the rim of his wine glass without taking his eyes off Sonny. “Oh, the usual scandalous fare. You and a certain blonde detective, for starters.”

Sonny scoffs. “There’s nothing going on between me and Amanda, not like that. She’s mad at me and you know what, I get it. She values the badge more than the office, can’t fault her for that.”

“Mmhmm.” Isaiah sounds disinterested and Sonny knows that’s not the so-called rumor he’d really wanted to address. “You and that reporter? There’s rumbling that a little birdie told her something he shouldn’t have and it earned her the front page.”

“Allegedly,” Sonny says, not without a trace of bitterness. “But that’s been over for a long time.”

“Right.” Isaiah tilts his head ever so slightly. He’d done that during lectures, too. Sonny remembers feeling like the head tilt had always meant that was when Isaiah was listening, really listening, to something one of his students had to say. The head tilt had made Sonny feel, embarrassingly, special. Now it just makes him feel like he’s being scrutinized. “You and Rafael Barba, then.”

Sonny tries not to flinch at the sound of Rafael’s name. It’s been a long time, too long, maybe not long enough since he’d last seen Rafael. It’s been about—how long since they’d sat down for dinner?—twenty-two minutes since Sonny had last thought about him. 

“You know Rafael?” Sonny asks. He doesn’t sound half as casual as he wanted and he chastises himself, too, for going with the first name.

“We’ve met a handful of times over the years,” Isaiah says, nodding. 

Isaiah’s hands come together, folding over the stark white tablecloth beneath them, and Sonny waits for once-familiar feelings to stir in him at the sight of those long, lithe fingers but nothing does. It’s both relieving and distressing. 

“He’s a good man,” Isaiah continues, “even if he’s always been a little prickly around the edges.”

Sonny has to laugh at that. “Funny, all of us at Fordham used to say the same thing about you.”

Isaiah presses his lips together, trying to look stern but failing to hold back a smile, this one bashful. Sonny’s never seen that one before. Clearing his throat, Isaiah asks, “So no immediate denial this time around?” Sonny narrows his eyes but Isaiah holds up a surrendering hand. “I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable. This isn’t an interrogation, I won’t be reporting back to the ADA gossip hotline when we’re done. I’m just trying to get to the root of why we’re here.”

“I thought we were here to catch up,” Sonny says. Even to his own ears, it’s unconvincing. “Besides, I wanted to thank you for your help on the case. Not everyone would have been willing to listen to Carlos’s story but you… You did. I knew you would.”

“He deserved better than what the last sixteen years gave him,” Isaiah agrees. He pauses, having the decency to look a little ashamed of his next words. “He deserved better than what my boss inflicted upon him. But Sonny, as passionate as I’ve always known you to be about justice, it seemed like there was more to it. Almost like it was personal.”

Sonny swallows hard, averting his gaze. Isaiah’s eyes are the kind that are piercing without trying to be, deep and mesmerizing and gorgeous in every way. Sonny had gotten lost in those eyes more than once while at Fordham, some nights to a humiliating degree, and he wonders now how it’s possible Isaiah can still read him so easily after so many years. 

“Times have changed, right?” Sonny asks with a short, breathless laugh. He doesn’t elaborate. Isaiah doesn’t need him to, he thinks, and sure enough, he’s proven right.

“It feels like that some days more than others,” Isaiah says.

Sonny frowns, biting at the inside of his cheek as his chest tightens with the courage he has to muster for his next question. “Was it difficult for you?” His voice cracks and he hates himself a little for it.

Isaiah smiles again. This one, Sonny does recognize. It’s really more of a smirk without any mean-spirited intent behind it, just a small tug at the corners of Isaiah’s lips, accompanied by downcast eyes and the slightest twitch of an eyebrow. 

“Was what difficult for me?”

Yeah, Sonny knows that smile. It’s the one Isaiah had always defaulted to when asked a stupid question. 

“You know what I’m asking.”

Isaiah nods, his expression softening. “I do. I do know.”

He leaves it at that, leaves it to Sonny to make the next move, and Sonny very nearly decides to change the subject but then he lets out a shuddering sigh. “That’s what I told Carlos. ‘Times are changing.’ I told him, ‘lots of people come out,’ like there’s nothing to be worried about. But not me. I haven’t. I don’t know how, I don’t know how anyone does, and I sure as hell don’t know how you go to work every day knowing everyone knows.”

For the first time, Isaiah looks like he’s speechless. Sonny doesn’t know whether he’s offended him, hurt him, angered him, hopes it’s not any of those things but fears it’s all of them. He watches Isaiah rub his finger over a frayed edge of the tablecloth, watches him take a long sip of his wine, watches the rise and fall of his Adam’s apple as he swallows. It’s an excruciating eternity before Isaiah speaks again.

“What I said about rumors before, it’s true,” he says, his voice even and steady. “I’ve been out to friends and family for a long time but it took me a little over a year to come out while working under Keane. One person found out, someone I trusted but shouldn’t have, and it seemed like everyone in the building knew by the end of the week. I was his… trophy. His prize. I’ve never felt so used in my life and Sonny, I was already pushing forty.” Isaiah smiles wryly, shaking his head. “Sometimes I think times haven’t changed at all.”

“How did you get past that?” Sonny asks, leaning forward, resting his elbows on the table. “How did you get past wondering whether that would always be the first thing people think about you?”

“Maybe it is,” Isaiah counters, fixing Sonny with a pointed look. “Would you have come to me with the Hernandez case if you didn’t know I’m gay?”

Sonny’s eyes widen, caught entirely off guard and feeling wholly embarrassed because Isaiah is _right_. “I-- I don’t-- I mean, you--”

“It’s okay.” Isaiah reaches out to take one of Sonny’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. Sonny forces himself not to let his eyes drop, to hold Isaiah’s gaze. “It’s okay because it’s part of who I am. But that’s the thing, it’s a part of me, not all of me. That’s what I had to remember to accept once people found out. They might look at me and think Isaiah Holmes, gay ADA, but then comes the rest. You said I have the justice gene. If those are the only two things you remember me for at the end of the day…” He trails off, giving Sonny’s hand one final squeeze before letting go. “I’m okay with that. The question is, would you be?”

Sonny bites down on his lip, turning over Isaiah’s words in his head until he offers a slow nod. “I’ve spent a long time worrying about what other people think of me. My pops, he-- well, let’s just say he was never exactly proud of the way I turned out. I can always hear him, you know? In the back of my head, he’s always there, telling me I’m not good enough.”

Isaiah lets out a low hum. “I understand. We like to hope, don’t we? We like to hope that the people closest to us will be the ones to understand who we really are, who will accept us for exactly that. That’s why it hurts so much more when they disappoint us.”

“But what about when you’re sure the people close to you will be supportive and you still don’t know how to show them who you really are?” Sonny bites down on his bottom lip, a frustrated sigh escaping him. “Sometimes I feel like I’m being pulled in two different directions. On one end is what everyone expects of me, on the other end is everything I think would be right for me. It should be a simple choice.”

“On the contrary, there is no simple choice,” Isaiah crosses his arms over his chest, propping his chin on the palm of his head. “That’s the game we play. I think what you need to ask yourself is whether you’re afraid to make a particular decision because it means change for you or because it means change for the people around you.”

It’s a good point, Sonny has to admit. He thinks of the way Amanda had berated him for leaving SVU for the DA’s office, he thinks of all the times he’d been teased for trying to put his law expertise to good use as a detective, and he thinks of the only constant in his life who’d come to accept that as part of who he was.

“I think I have to go,” he says, looking up at Isaiah with sudden purpose. “There’s something I need to do.”

“Then you should go do that thing.” Isaiah flicks his wrist then gestures at their glasses. “Don’t worry about this, I’ll take care of the tab.”

“Are you sure?” Sonny asks, even as he pushes his chair back from the table. “I’m the one who asked you to come out, I don’t want to make you feel like I’m abandoning you.”

“You can make it up to me later,” Isaiah says. “Just do me a favor? Let me know how it goes.”

“I will,” Sonny says with a small, sincere small. “Thank you, Isaiah, for everything.”

When Sonny gets up and turns to leave the restaurant, he doesn’t look back.

\--

There’s a buzzing in his head.

It’s been going on for at least a minute now.

He thinks it’s happening in a dream, at first. It’s incessant, it’s grating, it sounds like how his headaches feel after a night of too many scotches and it isn’t until Rafael’s scraping his hands down his face that he realizes it’s not his head but in fact, very real.

He blinks up at the ceiling for a moment then glances at the digital clock on his nightstand. The numbers glow a too harsh red in the pitch black of his room and Rafael groans. 11:44 PM. Who the hell?

Another buzz, another groan.

“Okay, okay,” he mutters, kicking his sheets off like a petulant child before swinging his legs over the side of his bed. He yawns, arms stretching out above him, and he shivers when his belly is exposed to the slight chill in the air. “Goddamn it, this better be good.”

He shuffles from his room to the front door, smacking his elbow against the doorframe along the way, and he cradles it against his chest with a scowl as he presses the button for the intercom. “ _What_?”

“Finally. What, are you sleeping up there?”

Rafael’s jaw drops and so does his cradled arm, swinging down uselessly at his side. He hasn’t heard that voice in over a year but just like that, like a flip of a switch, a flood of memories come back to him at the sound of it.

_“I want to be there for you, I just don’t know how.”_

_“Maybe it would be better for both of us if you weren’t here at all.”_

Famous last words, he thinks, which isn’t too far off from the truth. That _is_ the last thing he’d said to Sonny, those are the last words he thinks about almost every single day when he wakes up alone, and this is what he’s thinking about now when Sonny’s tinny voice blares out at him again.

“Hello? Listen, I know how weird this is but it’s forty degrees outside and it took a lot for me to ring the bell so if you’re willing to give me a chance, I’ll explain everything. If you’re not, I’m begging you just to let me know pretty quick because I’m freezing my ass off and I do have to work tomorrow so--”

“Oh, my god, will you shut up?” Rafael interrupts. Some things never fucking change. “Make it quick.”

He buzzes Sonny in and turns away from the intercom with a heavy sigh and a growing pit in his stomach. What the hell could Sonny possibly want from him? It’s been a year, well _over_ a year, and the only updates he gets on how Sonny is doing is when Olivia deigns to tell him anything.

He knows Sonny has traded in his badge for a desk at the DA’s office; 

he knows Sonny has admitted to practicing Rafael’s summations for court;

and he knows Sonny is single. 

He’d had to buy Olivia several lunches before she’d let that last bit of information slip and he hadn’t missed the severe purse of her lips once she had. He’d definitely ignored it, though.

Rafael gets so lost in his thoughts that when Sonny’s knock comes at the door, it still startles him. His hand immediately goes to his hair, patting down the bedhead in what he knows is a futile effort, considering he’s only wearing ratty sweatpants and an old white t-shirt. It’s a re-emerged instinct, he supposes, trying to preen for Sonny. He wishes he could bury it back down again.

When he opens the door, he wishes the instinct had been a little louder. It’s nearly midnight and Sonny has clearly had a post-work few but his hair is still perfectly coifed while his loosened tie makes him look more charming than messy. His blue eyes still do that thing where they seem to sparkle, even when there’s barely any light to brighten them, and there’s a pink tint to his cheeks from the cold that only serves to accentuate how pink his goddamn lips are.

Christ, he’s still perfect from head to toe. It’s very annoying.

“You grew a beard.”

Rafael blinks when Sonny states the obvious, bringing a hand up self-consciously to the weeks-old salt-and-pepper scruff over his cheeks. “Oh. Yeah.”

He doesn’t know what else to say about it. Explaining that it’s easy to let a shadow grow into a full beard when he doesn’t have to show up for court every day sounds about as pathetic in Rafael’s head as it would coming out of his mouth.

“It looks good. You look good. You, uh, you’ve got some color.”

A month ago, he’d taken his mother on a trip to Miami. The weather had been perfect, he’d gotten a nice tan and sipped cocktails from a coconut and slept on the most comfortable mattress he’d ever had the pleasure of sleeping on in his life. So why, his mother had asked, did he still look so miserable?

“Yeah,” he says again. 

Is it supposed to be this awkward? He supposes he shouldn’t be surprised. He’d barely known what to say when Yelina had walked into his office and his feelings for her had been nowhere near how strongly he feels for--

Felt for. _Felt_ for Sonny.

Rafael frowns, his hand moving from his cheek to rest behind his neck. “What are you doing here?”

Sonny’s mouth opens but then closes again, as if the words he’d meant to say have simply fallen away, forgotten. He deflates a little, taking a few steps inside even though Rafael technically hadn’t invited him and nudging the door shut with his foot. 

“I had this whole speech planned out,” Sonny admits, his palms turning upward. It’s almost like he’s pleading, though for what, Rafael isn’t sure. “I was going to come here and say all these things and fix what happened between us and everything was going to be good again.”

“Sonny--”

“I was selfish.”

Rafael’s mouth snaps shut at that and quite suddenly, his cheeks feel like someone’s just taken a branding iron to them. He ducks his head but Sonny takes a step toward him, tilting his head to catch Rafael’s watering eyes.

“I could never understand what it was like for you,” Sonny says. “I could never understand how someone could be so unapologetically himself and not care whether people liked him for that or not. I have always been that guy who overthinks things, who worries about whether other people will think he’s smart or likable or _normal_. I have always been that guy who tries to be the person everyone else wants him to be. But I get it now, Rafael, at least I get it a little bit. You do care. You care a lot. That’s why you put up a front, that’s why you like to make people think you’re untouchable. It weeds out everyone you don’t need to keep close. I let you weed me out.”

Rafael rubs at the bridge of his nose, trying to fend off the ache growing at the base of his skull. “You show up at my apartment at midnight just to tell me you think you’ve got me all figured out? Have you lost your mind?”

“When you left, I thought you were giving up,” Sonny continues, as if Rafael had said nothing at all. “On the job, on you and me, on the whole damn life you worked so hard to build. But then Liv tells us you’re doing consulting work. Then Liv tells us you’re doing guest lectures at Harvard and NYU. Then Liv shows us a picture of the two of you at lunch and you’re smiling, really smiling like you used to smile when I told a stupid joke you secretly liked, and those dark circles under your eyes are gone and it looks like you aged backwards and you know what I did? I made it about me. I let myself resent that you were doing so well without me when I should have understood you were just happy to be you.”

Rafael’s bottom lip trembles now and he looks up at the ceiling a little too late because he can’t blink back the few tears that stream down his cheeks in time. His nose twitches and he tries to swallow down the lump in his throat but doesn’t do a very good job because his voice is hoarse when he tries to speak. 

“I don’t know what you want from me. It’s been--”

“Too long,” Sonny interjects, taking another step closer. “Trust me, I know, but I think about you every day. Every single day, Rafael.”

“So why now?” Rafael asks. He takes a breath then asks again. “Why now? Why, on some random Thursday night in December, did you decide this is a good time?”

Sonny has the good sense to look sheepish. “I was out with a friend,” he says, “he was a mentor of mine at Fordham and he’s a DA in Queens now.”

“Holmes,” Rafael says. “Isaiah Holmes. You were out with him.”

If he feels a bit of jealousy creeping up, he’s sure it’s written all over his face. Isaiah Holmes is a walking piece of art, no two ways about it. Rafael is of the opinion that anyone who claims to find the man unattractive is a liar, which makes the mere idea of Sonny going out with him in any capacity _frustrating_ , in a word.

“We were out as friends,” Sonny says, emphasizing that last word, though it does nothing to ease the tension in Rafael’s shoulders. “He helped me realize a few things about the way we define ourselves. Or how we don’t have to define ourselves, I guess, and I have to work on that but I want to try.”

Rafael’s brows knit, though they soften a little when he sees Sonny’s fingers twitch. Once upon a time, Sonny had made a habit of reaching out to smoothen his frown lines, to trace the line of his jaw, to bring Rafael toward him for a gentle, soothing kiss.

“I miss you, Rafael. I shouldn’t have let you walk away. I shouldn’t have let you spend the last year and a half thinking I didn’t care. I’m so sorry.”

The admission practically makes Rafael’s heart leap into his throat and his mind races faster than his tongue can manage to form any words. His hands tremble at his sides, he has no idea what to do or how to handle this because Rafael has only ever been sure of one thing and that’s a life destined for accepted loneliness. This doesn’t seem real, it doesn’t seem possible, and Rafael squeezes his eyes shut because this must be a dream.

But when he opens his eyes again, Sonny is closer and Sonny’s hands are coming to rest on his hips and Sonny’s lips are placing a tender kiss on his forehead.

“If you need time to think, I understand,” Sonny murmurs. “Hell, if you don’t need time to think and want to tell me to get the hell out of your apartment, I’ll definitely understand.”

Rafael is quick to wrap his arms around Sonny’s waist, barely without a second thought. “I don’t need time to think,” he says, a wave of warmth rushing over him when Sonny starts to smile. “I want you here. I will always want you here.”

They stay that way for a while, Rafael doesn’t even know how long, with his head resting against Sonny’s chest and Sonny pressing soft kisses to his hair. He’s not sure what things will be like tomorrow, after they both have a chance to think about this evening and what it means for their future. Somehow, he’s okay with that. He’s okay with relearning how to let himself be loved, with rebuilding what they’d carelessly let fall to the wayside. They have a second chance now, it’s not something many people get for anything in their lifetimes.

“So I have Isaiah Holmes to thank for this?” Rafael asks, holding Sonny a little closer when Sonny starts to laugh.

“Yeah, I guess so. We’ll send him a fruit basket or something,” Sonny says, pulling back a little to grin down at Rafael. “It’s kind of funny, actually, you and Isaiah were my two big crushes while I was going to night school at--”

“Objection, Counselor,” Rafael huffs, pressing a finger to Sonny’s upturned lips. “You’re ruining the moment.”

Some things never change, Rafael thinks as he lowers his hand to meet Sonny for a kiss; and sometimes that’s for the better.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written anything in what feels like a decade but apparently, the last time I posted was in August. Anyway, I've had a severe case of writer's block all this time and I don't know what it was but the idea for this story sparked this evening and in a couple hours, it was done. I really adore Wentworth Miller and though his time as Isaiah was brief, I still loved his scenes with Sonny. They made a nice little team and I thought it would be so nice if Isaiah could help Sonny come to terms with some personal things about himself in the show so I just wrote it myself. Also, I miss Barba, as does Sonny and as do we all.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this one and if you did, feel free to show some love <333 Thank you for reading!


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